


Bad Things Happen Bingo: Kidnapping

by DrowningInStarlight



Series: Bad Things Happen [1]
Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27452926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: As much as he hates to admit it, this is probably Travis’s fault.
Relationships: Jonnit Kessler & Travis Matagot, Travis Matagot & Gable & Jonnit Kessler
Series: Bad Things Happen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005762
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: Bad Things Happen





	Bad Things Happen Bingo: Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> cw for kidnapping, obviously, and imprisonment!

As much as he hates to admit it, this is probably Travis’s fault. Jonnit’s a smart kid, sure, and more perceptive than most— hah— but it’s Travis who has the experience, and the experience with this specifically. He should be more than skilled at spotting and avoiding church officials with something to prove by now. 

But here he is, in the back of a cart, a bag over his head and a terrified fifteen year old breathing fast by his side. The sun had only set less than an hour ago, that was why he’d been sent into town with Jonnit to scout out a place for the crew to stay in the first place. So, roughly eleven hours before he was conveniently the wrong shape for handcuffs. 

That’ll probably be fine, right? He’s survived worse. He tries very hard not to think about how much the Church would _love_ to get their hands on Jonnit. 

The cart is full of people, all murmuring quietly to themselves or each other, so it isn’t too hard to lean in the vague direction of Jonnit’s ear and whisper “Wouldn’t be a Matagot party unless someone gets arrested.” 

“It was a shopping trip, Travis!” Jonnit responds, muffled through the bag on his head. Travis isn’t sure why the Church doesn’t want them seeing where they’re going. Maybe it’s something more serious than the normal town lock-up. 

Travis shrugs before realising that Jonnit can’t see him. “I like to multitask.” 

“No you don’t. You don’t even like to _task,_ singular.” 

“Well, what can I say?” Travis begins, “I’m just—” 

The cart rattles to a halt, and Travis stops, despite himself. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine! 

When the back is wrenched open and someone grabs him and wrenches him away, he can hear the anxiety in his own voice when he says “Jonnit!” 

“Hey, stop it!” Jonnit says, from somewhere to Travis’s right, as they’re marched across cobblestones. “I can walk myself!” 

Eleven hours, they can handle that. 

— 

“Ouch,” Travis says, less than half an hour later. They’d had the bags pulled off them once they’d got inside, and the building is huge and old, old stone. It’s not the worst prison Travis has ever been in, but it’s not— it’s not _good._ The air has the telltale smell of blood. The cells are far enough apart that you can barely hear the screams, but they’re definitely still there. And he’s broken enough bones to know that his leg is definitely broken. 

The small mercy had been that they hadn’t tried to separate him and Jonnit. They’d tossed them into the same small, windowless cell roughly, roughly enough to jostle Jonnit’s bandana out of place. 

The man’s eyes had widened. “What the fuck?” he’d said, gripping his spear tighter. 

“Uh oh,” Jonnit had said, stepping backwards, and Travis had stuck his leg out to trip the man as he tried to follow. It was a stupid, panic driven response, a trick that he plays on Gable more rather than a genuine attack, but it had worked and the man had fallen, hard. 

When he’d got up, there was a look of murderous rage on the man’s face that Travis was so very familiar with. But he still hadn’t been able to move fast enough to avoid the man cracking his spear down on Travis’s leg, and he’d crumpled immediately. 

If he’s being honest, Travis doesn’t really remember what had happened next. But he knows that now the man is gone, the cell is locked, and Jonnit is kneeling anxiously by his side. 

“Are you okay, man?” Jonnit’s saying, “He hit you super hard.” 

“Yep,” Travis manages. “He sure did.” He gestures at Jonnit to help him sit up against the wall. “Well, you know what I always say…” 

“Not a Matagot party unless someone gets their leg broken?” 

“You know it.” 

Jonnit just shakes his head, and reties his bandana. Then he flops beside Travis with the leggy awkwardness of teenagers that Travis is _so_ glad he outgrew over two hundred years ago. “What are we gonna _do?”_ he says. 

“We’re gonna wait till I change in the morning, then we’re gonna escape,” Travis says, wearily. 

“Do you really think we have that long?” Jonnit says. “Before they…” 

“Before they…?” 

Jonnit gives him a look. “C’mon, this is a Church of the Slain God prison and we’re… you know, weird.”

“Speak for yourself,” Travis says, but Jonnit’s right and he knows it. “It’ll be fine. Gable knows where we went.” He’s grasping at the one other straw that isn’t his ten and a half hours distant transformation. Gable will, probably, maybe, realise that they’re late returning and something must be wrong. 

“Yeah. Yeah!” Jonnit says, perking up a little. “They’ll bring the crew and it’ll probably be really cool!” 

“And maybe they’ll even trip over their own feet coming in,” Travis says. “That’d be funny.” 

Jonnit shakes his head at him, and that’s good, because while he’s frustrated he’s not scared. And the only thing worse than getting captured by the Church with a magic kid would be getting captured with a _scared_ magic kid. 

— 

Travis is good at pain. That’s like, his whole deal. But by the time the sound of distant shouting echoes into their cell, he is well and truly tired of his leg hurting. 

“Oh, good, that sounds like Gable,” he says. “Better late than never.” 

“Can you walk?” Jonnit asks him. 

Travis tries, experimentally, and hisses through his teeth. “I would rather not.”

“Here,” Jonnit says, offering his arm, and together they hobble over to the door. Jonnit looks at him judgmentally when he produces lockpicks from his sleeve and proceeds to pick the lock. 

“Could you have done that this whole time?” he asks. 

“Well, yes, but we couldn’t have gotten past the guards,” Travis says, tugging the door open. “And I didn’t want to draw more attention to us than we already have.” 

Now they’re out in the corridor, it’s easy to follow the sounds of chaos. The building is grimy and unpleasant. Travis doesn’t look too hard into any of the cells they pass, or at the stains on the floor. He’s starting to think this place is worse than he’d initially thought. Jonnit is uncharacteristically quiet at his side. 

They come out to a huge, central room, and Travis hears Jonnit gasp. There are soldiers and guards everywhere, some in Church regalia and some clearly red feathers— but mostly, they’re all just _dead._ The air smells of smoke, and Gable’s standing in the centre of the chaos, sword held high and wreathed in fire. Their eyes are deep, pure black. 

Travis just sighs. “Come on, Jonnit,” he says, and together they hobble across the room. The few people left alive make noises of shock and terror as Travis reaches over and grabs Gable’s sleeve. 

They don’t respond, eyes darting between the people who are still scrambling away and muttering, so Travis tugs their sleeve. “Come on,” he says. “Time to go.” 

“Are you insane?” some brave soul blurts, shuffling out of the room as they speak. “That— that thing killed everyone in here!” 

Travis rolls his eyes, and pulls harder on their sleeve. “We’re _going,”_ he says, taking hold of their wrist firmly with one hand and readjusting his grip of Jonnit’s shoulders with the other. 

“Yeah,” Jonnit agrees, and together they lead Gable back through the prison complex and out into the courtyard. There doesn’t appear to be anyone left to stop them. 

— 

It’s dark outside, dark and _cold._ They can’t go back to the ship, not with Travis’s leg and Gable’s… whole situation. Jonnit’s shivering already, and trying to pretend that he isn’t. 

Travis does the only thing he can think to do, and leads them towards the forest. 

They’re barely out of sight of the town when the shouting starts, loud enough to be audible even from this distance. 

“I think they’ve found out about…” Jonnit says, trailing off. He gives a worried look to Gable, who still doesn’t seem aware of them, eyes snapping to movement on the horizon. 

“This isn’t going to work,” Travis says, glancing down at his leg. They’re going too _slowly._ “Gable, you need to carry me.” 

He thinks, for a long moment, that they’re too out of it to hear him. But then they blink, and with surprising gentleness, scoop him up. 

“Okay!” he says, from their arms. “Jonnit, you good?” 

“Yeah,” he says, but there’s a waver in his voice. Gable looks down at him, and then kneels on one knee so he can climb on their shoulders.

“Can you carry both of us?” Jonnit asks. 

“I wouldn’t question them,” Travis advises, nodding back at the town. There are lights illuminating the sky orange now, like people are being roused from their beds. Travis knows the early signs of an impending witch hunt only too well. They head for the treeline. 

It’s darker still under the trees. It’s a pine forest, thick and heavy, Gable’s feet sinking into the soft ground every time they take a step. Travis closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths, listening intently. There isn’t a sound. He takes that as a good sign. 

The Queen may be unpredictable, but she keeps her word. No one will follow them into the woods. 

They’ll be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me bad things happen bingo prompts over on my tumblr, [drowninginstarlights!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/drowninginstarlights)


End file.
